


Enemy of the Guildpact

by Mertiya



Series: Odds//Ends [8]
Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: M/M, Nuh uh, Of course not, Porn With Plot, Ral is totally not defending Jace or anything, Ral totally does not care about Jace, Tsunderes, Why would you say that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 02:32:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2411735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertiya/pseuds/Mertiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jace's worst enemy is back in town, but things are a little different now that he has friends to go to bat for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enemy of the Guildpact

          Jace’s breathing quickened in apprehension and fear as Tezzeret stared at him. The bloodless grin on the artificer’s face did nothing to subdue his terror.

            “Strip, Beleren,” ordered Tezzeret.

            “What?” Jace’s mouth was dry.

            Tezzeret grabbed the front of his cloak and dragged him forward. “You made a mistake, Beleren,” he said calmly.  “And I am giving you a chance to atone for it.  If you choose to take it.”

            Jace felt a shudder run down his spine at the cold gleam in Tezzeret’s eyes. He nodded slowly and pulled off his cloak, then his pajamas, shivering as the cold air hit him. “Paldor, give me your knife and leave us,” Tezzeret ordered.  “Beleren—” he gestured across the room to a metal table.  “Lie down.  On your stomach.”

            Under his master’s gaze, Jace did as he was bid.  As the door shut, he felt his breathing rise choked and fast, and it was all he could do not to beg Paldor to stay with him—and he absolutely hated the man.

            Tezzeret whistled tunelessly as he inspected the blade.  Jace could almost hear the cold gears of Tezzeret’s mind turning with displeasure, and he instinctively shrank down as the artificer approached him.  Tezzeret took Jace’s wrists and tightened a pair of metal cuffs around them. At Jace’s terrified, questioning look, he said, “You’ll thank me.  If you struggle, I might cut too deep.”  Jace swallowed against the bile rising in his throat. Tezzeret restrained his ankles as well and began to circle the table slowly.

            “I couldn’t have stopped him!” Jace protested, after three circuits had left him close to throwing up with anticipation.  “You said it yourself!  He’s a 25,000-year-old dragon!”

            Tezzeret’s metal hand landed softly on the back of Jace’s head, then ground the mind mage’s face into the table.  “Did I say you could speak?” he asked coldly.  Jace tasted blood and stayed silent.  After a moment, the pressure was removed, and he heard Tezzeret move behind him.  Unable to see, Jace was unprepared for the chill of the manablade touching the skin of his back.  He shut his eyes. It couldn’t be that bad. Tezzeret needed him. He—

            Agony shot through his back as the knife broke the skin.  Jace screamed before he could stop himself, the muscles of his arms tightening against his will.  The knife continued to move, slow, inexorable, and excruciating, until the scream vanished into a breathless moan of agony.

            As the blade was removed, he gasped with relief.  The fiery pain drained away, replaced by a bone-deep ache.  Nausea washed over him, and he could feel his strength ebbing.

            “Please,” he gasped.  “You know I couldn’t have stopped him.  I tried! I did all I could, Tezzeret. Please, show some—”

            “Oh, Beleren, you still haven’t learned your lesson,” Tezzeret’s cold, precise voice whispered in his ear.  The edge of the knife danced along Jace’s shoulder blade before digging in again, and Jace bucked against the pain.  That was a mistake.  He screamed hoarsely as Tezzeret’s blade was forced deep into his flesh, his vision blurring with pain.  As he sagged back down in agonized exhaustion, he could feel the slick blade slip out of the gash. Tezzeret chuckled lightly as Jace lay sick and shivering on the table.  The mage stiffened at a sudden coldness on his back, then whimpered in pain as Tezzeret slid his metal fingers through the wounds.  “I warned you not to struggle, Beleren. You have only yourself to blame.  Really, you were asking for it.”

            Sweat and tears stung Jace’s eyes, and he desperately wondered how long Tezzeret planned to keep him here.  Suddenly, the taste of blood was washed out by a sour taste that made his mouth water, and he found himself vomiting onto the table. Tezzeret’s fingers continued to work inside him as he tried to lift his head out of the puddle of stinking bile. But the pain and nausea were too much, and his face fell to the table.

            “There you go again, Beleren.  Wallowing in your own mess.”

            Suddenly, the blade was back, moving lightly from his back to his arm and piercing him again.  He didn’t have enough breath left in his lungs to scream, and he just writhed in agony as his arm went numb.

            “Please,” he choked out again.  “I’ve—learned my lesson.  I’ll never—I won’t fail you again.  Please.” His face was wet with tears and vomit, his body drenched with sweat and blood.

            “Now, now,” Tezzeret chided him softly, “do you really expect me to believe you? The last time I did—well, that’s why we’re here now, isn’t it?  I’ll know when you have learned.”

            The blade thrust again, and Jace gave himself up for lost.

~

            Ral woke with a shout, clawing his way out of the nightmare to find Jace, beside him, whimpering and thrashing, hands raised to fend off a phantom attacker. Ral’s face grew grim as Jace gave a soft little moan. Not a nightmare, then.  A memory. After a moment, the guildmage reached out and shook the Guildpact awake.

            “Beleren,” he said softly.  “Jace.”

            Jace woke suddenly, eyes snapping open to focus on Ral.  He swore breathlessly and scooted backward, blue eyes crushed and empty of recognition.

            Ral grimaced.  “Jace,” he said. “It’s all right.”

            The normally—well, not imposing, Ral reflected, but certainly composed—mind mage continued to shiver uncontrollably, looking around the room in a state of half-asleep terror.

            Snapping his fingers, Ral called forth a tiny spark that leapt from him to Jace. “Wake up, Guildpact.”

            The blank eyes blinked in confusion, filling in with comprehension, relief, and embarrassment.  “Damn,” breathed Jace.  “Did I wake you up?”

            “No, no,” said Ral with a smirk.  “It was the _other_ personification of law, order, and other boring things thrashing around in my bed.”

            Jace scowled at him.  “It’s _my_ bed,” he pointed out. “Sorry, anyway.”

            “Nightmare?” Ral asked, with feigned casualness.  Jace gave a noncommittal grunt and rolled over.

            “Sorry I woke you.  Go back to—what are you doing?”

            “I’m embracing you, Guildpact.  Isn’t that what lovers do?”

            “Oh—uh—all right.”

            “I mean, if you’d _rather_ I—”

            “Go to sleep, Ral.” As they settled down again toward sleep, Ral traced one of the long, white scars on Jace’s back with his eyes.

~

            Jace moaned as Ral raked his nails down the Guildpact’s bare sides. “Ral—” he breathed. “I r-really should get some of my paperwork signed.”

            “Hmmm,” Ral breathed in his ear.  “Are you saying you want me to stop?”  He slid his lips down the nape of Jace’s neck, unbuckling Jace’s belt at the same time.  Jace keened and bucked against the desk.

            “Ah—no—”

            “Was that ‘no, I don’t want you to stop’ or ‘no, don’t do that’?” Ral nibbled at his ear. “I’ll be honest, Guildpact. I’d rather not stop. I’d rather fuck you.”

            Jace swallowed.  “Wait,” he said. “You haven’t turned me into a woman.”  Irritating as that particular habit was, it at least tended to give him an idea of who was going to be topping.

            “Oh, but I thought you didn’t like being a woman?” Ral asked teasingly.

            Jace sputtered, then sighed.  “There’s no right answer to this question, is there?”  He paused.  “Fine.  You can try. But you’re not shoving anything up there that isn’t physically part of your body.”

            “Bland, Guildpact.  But acceptable, for now.”

            Jace’s trousers hit the floor, and he leaned forward as Ral’s hands moved down his front and back.  Ral’s finger traced a delicate pattern across his back and down his spine before entering him, and Jace swallowed a gasp at the intrusion.  Sometime during their conversation, Ral had coated his finger in grease, and Jace thought irritably that it was just like him to assume Jace would go along with his suggestion.  Which was particularly annoying when he was right. Then Ral’s finger crooked inside him, and Jace stopped being able to think.

            “Oh, Krokt,” he whimpered, grinding down on Ral’s finger.  Thoughts fled before the feel of Ral’s lips on his shoulder blades, one hand caressing the inside of Jace’s thighs. Another finger wormed its way in, and Jace felt his head fall back, a moan tearing its way out of his throat. He whimpered, bucking against the air, trying to find something to thrust against, finally groping for himself with his own hand.  Ral caught his wrist.  “Patience, Guildpact,” he murmured, putting his hands on Jace’s hips and pushing him forward until he was sprawled across the desk.  Jace wriggled and moaned as Ral pulled his legs apart and lined up.

            Feeling a sudden pressure as Ral tried to enter him, the Guildpact glanced back with a gasp.  “I don’t think it’s going to fit.”

            “Nonsense,” Ral objected.  “You fit inside me all the time.”

            “Yes, well, you’re a bigger asshole than—guh.”  Jace’s eyes rolled back in his head as Ral thrust. “Oh—Ral—please—” he groaned, slapping his hand against the desk and bucking forward.  He was pinned in the air, unable to feel any friction as Ral moved slowly inside him.

            “I’m sure you can climax like this, Guildpact,” Ral said amusedly, and Jace writhed.  Ral pinned his arms to the desk and began to pick up the pace.

            “No, I can’t,” Jace panted breathlessly.  “Krokt, I hate you.”

            He reached into his own head, wondering if he could trick himself into an orgasm the way he’d sometimes held Ral back—and lightning stormed through his limbs, breaking off his connection to the fiddly blue magic he needed. As it ebbed away, Jace found that he was keening and desperate but still pinned in place by Ral’s weight.

            “Damn—it,” he grunted, the words coming out in time with the thrusts. “How—did—you—”           

            “You’re the mind mage,” Ral smirked.  “You tell me.”

            Jace groaned again, slapping his palms against the desk.  It wasn’t so different from sex as a woman, he thought distractedly—the same feeling of Ral inside—filling— _completing_ —

            The mounting heat in the pit of his stomach was suddenly interrupted by the click of the door opening.  Jace froze.  _Please don’t be Lavinia again,_ he thought desperately, simultaneously sending as many mental obscenities in Ral’s direction as possible.  _I told you to lock the door this time!_

The door flew open.  “Beleren,” a cold voice spoke. “How very—how—wh—”

            Jace felt his face freeze in shock and watched a very similar expression appear on the face of the last person he was expecting or desiring to see. He swallowed and tried to speak, but failed entirely to vocalize and just let out a breath.

            “I’m afraid he’s busy right now,” Ral said nonchalantly, continuing to thrust with gusto.  “Is it important?”

            There was another long pause.  Then Tezzeret spoke, his voice tinged with a faint touch of scornful admiration.  “Very convincing illusion, Beleren.  You almost had me fooled.”

            Jace shut his mouth again, opened it, and started laughing hysterically. “Yes—an illusion,” he babbled.   “I suppose I should have known better than to try to trick you, shouldn’t I—guh—” he ended with a grunt as Ral thrust inside him punishingly hard.

            “Excuse me,” said the lightning mage, his voice dangerously cavalier. “But I simply _must_ ask.  Your arm is so very striking.  What kind of metal would it happen to be made of?”

            Tezzeret smiled thinly.  “Ah, Beleren. An attempt to taunt me? But you already knew that I replaced the arm you stole from me.  You never really did understand etherium, did you?”

            “Etherium?” asked Ral without losing pace.  “Sounds like a cut-rate knock-off of Mizzium.  Definitely a stupid name.”

            It was an odd experience for Jace to watch actual rage wash across his former mentor’s face, especially while being pinned to a table and tenderly sodomized.  “How dare you!” snarled Tezzeret.  “To insult me with these parlor tricks, to mock me for the injuries you inflicted—this, I can accept.  But to impugn my craftsmanship?  This ‘cut-rate’ arm can draw and direct mana at an efficiency rate you could never dream of matching.  That is the nature of etherium, you degenerate, and you will feel its effects first-ha—”

            “Is that so?” interrupted Ral.  “Interesting!”

            The hair on the back of Jace’s neck rose as the scent of ozone filled his nostrils. “W—” he started to say, and then his entire world exploded into crackling ecstasy.

            The first thing he noticed was the wood of the desk beneath his face. The second was that he was sticky with sweat and—other things.  Ral, who was just pulling out of him, leaned down and kissed his cheek. “I told you that you could climax like that,” he said.  Jace keened softly, and then started to try to get up, but his legs were too wobbly, and he had to sit back down in his chair.  That was about the point when his erratically sparking brain reminded him that Tezzeret was probably still in the room.  In bleary panic, he looked over at the doorway. The artificer was sprawled across the threshold, the remains of his etherium arm embedded in the doorframe. Gentle wisps of smoke rose from his blackened dreadlocks.

            “I think I’d better see if Lavinia can file any charges against him,” Jace said thoughtfully and a little shakily.  “Now where are my clothes?”

            Ral grinned.  “Clothes?”

~

            Tezzeret fumed, stalking up and down the alleyway.  How dare Beleren make a fool of him like that?  It had obviously been a set-up.  The scrawny little traitor had never been good at working with others, much less working that— _closely_. Tezzeret growled angrily, flexing his metal arm, which he had somewhat managed to restore.  Another insult that Beleren would pay for. Images of Jace strapped down, screaming beneath the manablade, invaded Tezzeret’s mind, suddenly and confusingly followed by the thought of his face from the day before, open, naked, and pleading.

            The sound of footsteps announced the presence of another person entering the alleyway.  Made only a little jauntier by the addition of clothing, the lightning mage from the previous day was instantly recognizable as he leaned insouciantly against the wall.

            “So, you sent me the loveliest note,” he said.  “What do you want?  Did you”—an unreadable expression passed over the mage’s face—“enjoy yesterday?”

            “I want you to let me have Beleren,” Tezzeret spat.

~

            “Why would I want to do that?”  This was one illusion it was easy for Jace to maintain.  After all, he’d been inside Ral before, in a manner of—Jace stifled a groan.  Ral really was starting to rub off on him.

            _More confidence, more arrogance_ , Ral thought at him urgently.  _You’re not being_ me _enough, Guildpact!_

            _Shut up,_ Jace thought back in annoyance.  _Don’t distract me._

            Tezzeret scoffed and strode forward.  “I’m certain I can make it worth your while,” he said.

            _You want to be bought off?_ Jace asked Ral silently.

            _Is he really that good at sex?_

Jace nearly choked.  “How exactly are you planning to make it ‘worth my while’?” he temporized.

            Tezzeret gave him a calculating look.  “Look, whatever you’re getting out of him, I’m sure I can make a better offer.”

            _He really thinks highly of himself in bed._

Tezzeret leaned toward Jace, who leaned away, justifying it on the grounds that Ral would have done just that.  “I know Beleren,” he said softly.  “No one could actually want him for himself. What is your angle?”

            “The sex is good,” Jace heard himself saying in Ral’s voice.

            Tezzeret’s face went blank.  For a few incredibly uncomfortable moments, Jace stared into the eyes of a man who had tortured him, while being fairly certain that the artificer was imagining him naked.  “Give me Beleren,” Tezzeret eventually said.  “Or at least let me in on whatever scam you’re running with him, so I can prove to you my—good faith.”

            “You know,” Jace said, after a mental prompt from Ral. “For someone who thinks Beleren could never be attractive to anyone, you’re awfully obsessed with ‘having’ him.”

            _That’s quite the twitch_ , Ral commented. _His eye is just all over the place._   The careful tendril Jace sent out to observe Tezzeret’s mind found a carefully tuned machine, oiled with wrath and working away at—Jace withdrew hastily, away from the onslaught of graphic images of himself being violently tortured and—

            Ral whistled soundlessly.  _Quite the imagination your friend has. I might even want to try out that last one._

 _I hate you,_ Jace shot back.

            _Careful, Guildpact. We wouldn’t want you getting distracted.  You might screw up._

_Then shut up and stop distracting me._

Tezzeret was speaking.  “—killed my fire mage, ripped my arm off, and left me for dead.  I don’t feel anything so base as _lust_ for that—that _maggot_.  But I am due some compensation, and his suffering will serve that purpose well.”

            _Not just_ that _purpose_ , Ral put in.

            _Shut_ up _._

            It was dizzying trying to juggle both conversations simultaneously, and Jace made a note to practice more often.  “It’s not as if Baltrice—” Jace started, the name slipping out before his mind managed to apply the brakes.  Tezzeret raised an eyebrow and held up a metallic claw.

            “What was that name?” he asked with dangerous innocence in his voice.

            _I told you_ , Ral said. Jace didn’t have time to either answer Tezzeret’s question or rage at Ral before a metal hand closed around his throat. He choked as he was pulled onto the tips of his toes, his illusion dissipating into fragments.

            “Pathetic, Beleren,” snapped Tezzeret.  “You intercepted my message, I see.  Well, I’m happy to have the opportunity to deal with you.”

            “Oh, yes, he intercepted it quite cunningly,” Ral said, stepping nonchalantly out from his hiding place.  “He asked ‘What’s that you’re holding there?’ So, I told him ‘It’s a note from someone who’s trying to kill you, I think.  Again.’  And then I gave it to him.  And then he swore loudly.” Tezzeret hissed in displeasure, and Jace whimpered as the metal fingers broke through the flesh of his throat.

            “Well, be that as it may, I have the upper hand now,” snarled Tezzeret. His composure slipped as Ral started to chuckle.

            “Upper hand. Heh.”

            “This is no time for this nonsense!” Tezzeret roared in irritation. Jace, while preoccupied with the claws in his throat, was forced to agree.  “I will not allow you buffoons to defeat me a second time!”

            “Don’t have to,” Jace rasped.  “Lavinia?  Emmara? Now would be good.”

            The Azorius lawmage and Selesnyan elf stepped out behind Ral.

            “Please lower the Living Guildpact and step backwards,” Lavinia instructed. “You are already wanted on several counts of murder and conspiracy.  I advise you not to compound your crimes with assault on a government figure.”

            Tezzeret narrowed his eyes.  “Illusions,” he spat.  “You don’t have friends, Beleren.  You’ve never had the knack.”

            “You know,” Ral commented, as if to himself, “this sounds vaguely familiar.”

            Blood leaked slowly down Jace’s throat and sprayed outwards every time he tried to exhale.  Precious little air was managing to pass into his lungs, but he managed to croak, “I do now,” before he felt his windpipe crack underneath Tezzeret’s hand.

            “You ‘do now’?  How trite. The poor little mind mage who could never stand up to his own failures has friends ‘now,’” Tezzeret sneered. “We both know what happens to people you associate with, Beleren.  Either you abandon them, or they die.”

            _You’re too fond of living in the past, Tezzeret.  It’s always been your greatest weakness._  Even with a broken windpipe, Jace was still conscious enough to speak telepathically.

            “No, relying on fools like you has always been my ‘greatest weakness,’” snarled Tezzeret, his hand constricting even more.  “A weakness I’ll address right now. Let’s see what these friends of yours will do if I kill you right in front of them.”  Jace tried to scream, but only succeeded in convulsing as Tezzeret completely crushed his throat.

            “Ah,” Ral held up a hand, crackling with electricity. 

            “You wouldn’t dare,” Tezzeret chuckled.  “You’d kill him before it would be enough to kill me. And, if you do—well, I suppose that just proves that you don’t have friends, doesn’t it, Beleren?”

            “Jace?” purred Ral.  “Kick your feet into the air.”  Jace, who knew better than to argue, used the last of his strength to pull his legs off of the ground. There was a sudden flash of brilliant white as the lightning struck Tezzeret’s outstretched hand. Jace felt the mana rush by, brushing against his mangled throat as lightly as a lover’s kiss. Tezzeret screamed, hoarse and rough, his hand jerking open to let Jace fall to the ground. 

            His feet impacted hard, but he crumpled forward, trying desperately to suck in the air that would not come.  He struggled to breathe, clapping a hand over his throat.

            “No need to thank me, Guildpact,” said Ral, sauntering over to him. “It was a simple matter of understanding the flow of mana through a material I’d never heard of until yesterday, of course.  You see, mana wants to return to the land, and with Tezzeret creating a nigh-perfect conduit for it—”  Jace looked up and gurgled, his vision dimming.  He barely had the presence of mind to whisper, _Help!_

            Ral’s expression slid from one of self-satisfaction to something he was almost certain was concern, and then he heard Ral’s voice calling for Emmara.

            She was there in a moment, kneeling beside him.  She must have already been coming over. He felt her fingers run lightly down the side of his face and chin, then pause as they reached his throat. “Take his hand, Ral,” Emmara’s soft voice said.  “This is going to hurt.”

            Jace barely had enough mind left to register surprise when Ral mutely took his hand and held it.  There was a sudden surge of white and green mana, and then agony splintered out from the inside of Jace’s throat.  He tried to scream, but that only made it hurt more.  Vaguely, he felt Ral’s fingers tighten around his own, and he tried to focus on those instead of the nauseating and painful sensation of his throat being uncrushed.

            After far too long, he was able to gasp in a breath and immediately choked and began to cough.  Blood spattered across Ral’s chest and arm.  “Easy,” said Emmara.  “Breathe slowly. That’s it.”

            “I liked that shirt,” pouted Ral.

            The second breath went in more easily, though Jace was now aware of how painful his throat still was.  “Thanks,” he croaked and wished he hadn’t.

            “You’d probably better give up speaking for the next few days,” Emmara advised.

            Jace stared at her frantically.  _I can’t actually talk telepathically to everyone all the time!_ he pointed out.

            Lavinia chose that moment to appear.  “Suspect is detained,” she announced grimly.  “Jace, are you all right?”

            Jace nodded and opened his mouth automatically, but Ral put his hand across it. “Guildpact, don’t be an idiot. Lavinia will simply have to relay your orders for the next few days.”

            Jace sighed and leaned sideways against Ral.  All things considered, this was definitely a better outcome than the last time he had tangled with Tezzeret.

~

            Jace looked around the room.  It had been some time since he had visited Emmara’s home—truth be told, he had been avoiding her.  Her rooms had not changed, which was hardly surprising, given how old she was. Not much time had passed for her since she had met Jace.

            Emmara entered from the other room, carrying a steaming teacup in one hand. Jace braced himself for the unwelcome surge of butterflies in his stomach, but they didn’t come. There was nothing there but a mild sense of greeting for an old friend.  He was tempted to crack open his own mind and have a look, but this probably wasn’t the time.

            “Here,” she said, handing him the cup.  “This should help your throat.”

            _It’s good to see you, Emmara. And thanks for being able to help on such short notice_ , Jace thought to her as he received the tea. His throat was still aching badly. Lavinia and Ral should be arriving shortly after they dropped Tezzeret off at Azorius headquarters. He hoped that they managed to cooperate for long enough to actually get him locked up.

            He wrapped his hands around the steaming cup as Emmara spoke, “As soon as I heard Tezzeret was in the neighborhood, I thought you might need me.”

            Jace gazed up at her questioningly, raising the cup to his lips. _How did you know he was here?_            

            “Ral told me.”

            “What?” Jace coughed and spat his mouthful back into his drink, then winced at the pain that shot through his throat when he spoke without thinking.

            “We have tea every so often,” Emmara explained.

            Jace gaped at her.  _You what_?

            Emmara gave him an amused look.  “Just because two people are different doesn’t mean they can’t enjoy each other’s company.”

            _But after the Maze—_ he stuttered to a halt, but Emmara fortunately interpreted his statement in the only way she could.

            “We were rivals, yes, Jace.  It’s true I didn’t have much fellow feeling for him.  But he came to ask me a question about you a few weeks ago and seemed genuine.”

            _A question?_ Jace echoed in confusion.

            Emmara smiled faintly.  “I think he was concerned about the scars you bear from Tezzeret’s manablade. He came to ask me how you received them.” Jace’s hand crept up his own back.  Then Ral must have _known_ who Tezzeret was.  “So when he came to me a few days ago with the news that Tezzeret had returned, I was prepared to offer any help I could.”

            Several days ago had been before Tezzeret had interrupted the two of them. Which meant Ral had known. Which probably meant that he’d been expecting the artificer.  And that would mean that he had probably set it up so that—

            —Jace groaned, the sound rattling painfully through his injured throat. That was just like Ral. What, had he decided to demonstrate to Tezzeret that Jace was _his_ possession now?  He thought of the look on Ral’s face when he’d realized Jace was hurt.  Had he intended to demonstrate to Tezzeret, not that Jace was his, but that Jace was—valued?  And to embarrass Jace, of course, but he always did that. Had he electrocuted Tezzeret not because Tezzeret had disbelieved in him, but because—

            Emmara was speaking again.  “Ral’s quite kind as long as no one is paying attention.  He cares deeply about y—”

            “And that’s more than enough of that,” said Ral’s distinctive drawl. He and Lavinia entered the room a little wearily.

            _Ral?_ said Jace.

            “Yes, Guildpact?”

            _Did you know Tezzeret was here before yesterday morning?_

“I may have.”

            _Did you_ deliberately _not lock the door?_

            “That is a scurrilous and potentially accurate accusation.”

            Jace groaned.  “Why?” he croaked. “To prove to Tezzeret you own me? To prove to _me_ you own me?”

            Ral smiled.  “Did it work?”

            Jace pressed on, heedless of the pain in his throat.  “To show Tezzeret that I was valued? To—show _me_ that I was valued?”  Ral’s voice in the still of the night, cutting through the nightmarish memories.

            Ral leaned forward until Jace could feel his breath and looked deeply into Jace’s eyes.  Then he ruffled Jace’s hair and said, “Do you really think that sounds like me?”

            “I could find out,” Jace said darkly.  “I _am_ a mind mage.”

            “An ethical one,” Ral said with a chuckle, and Jace deflated. “And so adorable,” Ral added, pinching his cheek.

            As they continued to squabble, Emmara smiled and sipped her tea. While she would prefer that Ral not actually mount Jace in front of her, it was heartening to see how in love they were.  Not that either of them would ever admit it.

           


End file.
